


Miracles (The Cruelest Task)

by Lorde_Shadowz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (That's Fairly Obvious), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Backstory, Curious Harry Potter, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Evil Voldemort (Harry Potter), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, House Elves, Hurt Severus Snape, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Morally Grey Albus Dumbledore, Mpreg, Powerful Harry Potter, Pregnant Severus Snape, Slow Burn, The Daily Prophet (Harry Potter) is also Terrible, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25956811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorde_Shadowz/pseuds/Lorde_Shadowz
Summary: Severus Snape is held back after a Death Eater meeting and, due to Voldemort's false perception of his loyalties, given truly damning orders. Harry Potter, always too curious by half, wonders what is wrong with his DADA professor, beginning to grow concerned at his excellerating weakness. But when the boy hero finds out the truth, what will he do? And, more important still, what will the public do?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Other Pairings are Canon - Relationship, Voldemort/Severus Snape (one-sided)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 310





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon diverges at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, when Bellatrix is thrown through the veil instead of Sirius, thus meaning that he is still alive (but also still in hiding, as they haven't caught the rat yet) and Bella dearest is no longer a problem. Because Bellatrix is gone, the Unbreakable Vow was only to protect Draco and not necessarily to complete his "task" if he failed. Also, Dumbledore did not go after the Resurrection Stone horcrux, and thus is fine for now. Severus is staying in the castle over the summer since anti-Death Eaters burned the house at Spinner's End in retaliation for recent attacks.

Severus Snape had been asked- or ordered- to brew many things in his life. There were the potions that he had brewed for classmates when he was still in school, even when he was only in second form. There were the potions that he brewed for an owl-order business that he ran on the side, to augment his poor teaching salary and even poorer inheritance, saving up to pay for rare ingredients for his own private experimentation and against the days when he would have outlived his usefulness to his two employers- masters, really. There were the potions that he brewed as teaching examples (although Merlin knew that only a few of the little dunderheads would actually remember what he was trying to instill in what passed for their brain matter) and the potions he brewed to stock the hospital wing for when the little dunderheads posing as students transfigured their fingers into claws or ran afoul of a mandrake plant or were stupid enough to go wandering in the Forbidden Forest unsupervised (ehem, Gryffindors). And lastly, there were the potions that he was forced to brew for his _other_ , unofficial employer.

Severus normally enjoyed brewing, and he also knew that because he was the best- and only- Potion Master in the Dark Lord's ranks, he had a considerably cushier post than many of the other Death Eaters, despite the fact that he was only a "lowly" halfblood, and it had only gotten better after Bellatrix Lestrange died the previous year in the Department of Mysteries, because with her gone, and Lucius and the Carrows in disgrace (the one for using one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes in a plot to discredit Arthur Weasley and the other two for "over-enthusiasm" when questioning an important prisoner) he was one of the highest in the entire Inner Circle. The Dark Lord couldn't afford to use the cruciatus on him too often or too long, because he would lose his best source of potions and poison if he tortured Severus until his hands- the only valuable part of him, according to the late Bellatrix Lestrange- shook with nerve damage, or, Merlin forbid, his mind broke under the strain. A mindless husk couldn't brew or bring back information, after all. He could also use the excuse of his brewing and spying duties to beg out of the Dark Revels and the atrocities committed then, and, more importantly still, he could doctor the potions untraceably, so that the effects could be lessened, and what was supposed to be a torture potion would instead cause instant, painless death or sleep. Not that he could do that too often, or they would suspect, but since few of the purebloods in the Dark Lord's innermost circle had actually brewed anything more difficult or time-intensive than a pepper-up since their OWL's or NEWT's, he could always blame them for "mixing up" the poisons that he gave them. It was a pitiful effort to mitigate the suffering, but it was all he could do besides reporting on their every move to those who sought to bring them down and hoping every minute that he would not be outed as a spy.

He did, however, know perfectly well that he could have been forced to rape and murder as well, but, then, he was weighed down with duties both from the Headmaster and from the Dark Lord, and did not have the time. And as if that were not enough of an excuse (and to some of the more zealous Death Eater cultists, it _wasn't_ ) he had, over the years, gained a reputation for being vicious, solitary, and antisocial, as well as more interested in his precious "chemistry set" than any woman he had ever known. (Although some of the others cruelly amended that with the statement that he was far too ugly to have had any experience.)

All told, he was rather used to being given various unusual brewing orders. Wolfsbane. Felix felicis. Amortentia. (Lucius Malfoy had needed a way to "convince" one of his mistresses, although Severus could have told her that since she already slept with a scrap of his cloak, the potion was not necessary in the slightest). Veritaserum. (The ministry hadn't liked contacting someone of his "questionable morals", but the fact was that he was literally the only- and best- option that they had). He had even brewed a serum designed to enhance natural mind arts, both for himself and for Dumbledore. But he had never in his life been even asked, much less ordered, to brew a male pregnancy potion, and it was actually proving to be the first challenge that he had had in years, while the other male maternity potions that he would likely have to brew soon seemed as though they would be, if not difficult, than at least more complex than calming draughts and blood replenishers. Not to mention his unease as to what the Dark Lord wanted them for. Severus had never known him to have a lover or even be interested in such a thing, although now that he thought about it, he figured that perhaps he wanted an heir, as per the old Slytherin traditions, even if, being practically immortal, he probably did not think that an heir was necessary to carry on the family line. But the potion! Merlin knew that the Dark Lord had would never debase himself to the point of taking the potion himself, which meant that he would likely have one of his followers do it, hence the fact that it was a male pregnancy potion (he had had very few Marked female followers in the first place, seeing as most witches were smart enough not to get involved, and with Bellatrix dead and Alecto in disgrace, he didn't really have anyone left unless he wanted to imperius a random witch or force one of the unmarked spouses, like Narcissa, to submit, which would only result in their deaths if they had taken the traditional marriage vows or, like many purebloods, were too fragile to have more than the obligatory heir.) So he was probably going to use a Marked follower, as the Mark made them easier to control; it would likely be one of the ones smart enough to keep his mouth shut but too stupid to attempt disloyalty. Given that the Mark required a powerful ritual and the consent of whoever was being Marked, it wasn't like he could just pick up some witch off the street, even if his tastes ran that way (and Severus honestly didn't know the Dark Lord's preference, nor did he want to know).

With a little shiver, Severus forcibly returned his attentions to the opalescent potion foaming in the gold cauldron that he had had to use a substantial amount of his salary on (it was not exactly deductable from the school budget, especially during the summer, and Merlin forbid that the Dark Lord actually give him the materials and funding necessary for him to brew the various potions asked of him) and tried to shut off his whirling thoughts by counting each smooth revolution of the stirring rod; he would have to stir it slowly 497 times, and Merlin save him if he missed, because the potion would be botched. Again. He had not blown up so many cauldrons or ruined so many attempts at a potion in years, and, what was more, there was going to be a meeting that night, or perhaps the next if he were lucky. The Dark Lord would ask how he was progressing, and he would expect the finished result, and even if he was too valuable to kill or crucio too much, there were other unpleasant methods of discipline that could easily be used on him while sparing his precious hands.

He managed to count all the stirs correctly this time, and added the chopped unicorn womb- Merlin, the ingredients for this potion disgusted him even if the womb had been harvested from a naturally deceased unicorn- and then the slimy, slippery frog and kappa eggs (not crushed) and the fluxweed, kitsune, mullein, tilphussian waters, and hibiscus for change, now stirring very fast as the influx of ingredients and the increase in temperature had caused the potion to creep up the sides of the cauldron.

It took three more full hours, a great deal of prep work and difficult stirring techniques, and more than a thousand galleons-worth of ingredients (although fortunately some of those were covered by the school budget; Severus did not enjoy taking school supplies for his own brewing, but then, since he was spying for the Dark Lord, Dumbledore fortunately allowed him a little assistance) to finish the obscure and difficult potion. Thank Merlin it was Saturday! The customary elation at finishing a particularly difficult potion, however, did not last long, though, because he had little doubt that a meeting would be called either that night or the next, seeing as it was easier for all the Death Eaters to report if it was a weekend. He had completed his task, but he could not help a shiver of unaccountable nervousness.

It was the next evening, in the middle of a dinner that was actually tolerable for once, that his mark began to burn. He rose, nodded to Albus (sending a subtle legillimentic message at the same moment) and hurried to his rooms to collect the potions (the male pregnancy mixture, a lust-inducing elixir, and several fertility potions, as the first potion could not work without the other two) and his Death Eater regalia. From there, he hurried down a secret passageway from the dungeons to the Forbidden Forest, known only to the house elves, the school ghosts, and possibly the Weasley twins, and apparated straight to Malfoy Manor, which the Dark Lord had taken over as his headquarters.

The others were just arriving, and Severus managed to find his place in the ring of dark robes and pale masks and glittering eyes, waiting in silence to be called upon to report. The Dark Lord cast a criticizing and dangerous ruby gaze over all of them, and then smiled, a look that, to Severus, seemed crueler and more unfeeling than the faces of all the dementors of Azkaban.

"Welcome, my children," he hissed, ruby gaze flickering across them, and Severus idly noticed that he had commandeered Lucius Malfoy's throne-like seat at the head of the table in his own home, and that the supposed master of the house was sitting at the other end of the table in disgrace. Nagini, the Dark Lord's pet snake, slithered among their feet, and Severus had to employ all of his formidable skill in occlumency not to shiver visibly as she crawled over one of his boots.

"Thank you for calling us, my Lord," they responded dutifully, (though some were more enthusiastic than others).

The Dark Lord nodded in lieu of a reply, reaching one hand up to stroke the head of Nagini, which was now resting on his shoulder as she seemed to have tired of exploring the floor of the great hall of Malfoy Manor. "I believe that it is time to begin, then. Rookwood, what is your report?"

The Unspeakable rose. "The Ministry is in shambles with Bones dead," he responded calmly, "the DMLE should be ripe for the takeover."

Severus cringed behind his occlumency shields. Merlin, this was too soon.

"Perfect. Yaxley? You have orders to discover who the acting DMLE head is and to attempt to force compliance. If they are Light, imperius should work. For someone who is neutral, perhaps a bribe, or something of that matter. If he or she is a Dark supporter, so much the better."

The man named nodded to his Lord.

"Perfect. Pettigrew, what is your report?"

The slimy animagus had apparently been gathering gossip and information in the taverns and places of ill repute in Knockturn Alley like the disgusting rat that he was, and had several potential recruits, as well as some information about the Order- damn Mundungus- and also a little blackmail material on some of the ministry workers, which would likely make a takeover easier, although apparently he had thought he had been apprehended in the middle of trying to listen in on a drunken conversation between two business wizards and had fled, so had missed some rather sensitive information about Light assets. Still, he had collected quite a lot of valuable information, enough, in fact, that the Dark Lord, rendered a little more affable by the prospect of a ministry takeover, for once did not crucio him for his cowardice, more was the pity.

There were several more reports (Karkaroff's assassination by Dark supporters, for instance, and his own- the Dark Lord asked him only about his Hogwarts position, and Severus uneasily wondered why he had not been questioned about his...other task, although he assumed that the Dark Lord probably did not want what he had ordered known by the others, if he was looking for secrecy. It did not, however, escape him that the Dark Lord could have just asked about his assignment in generic terms, as he had with rare poisons before). Then there was the announcement of a Revel (which, thank Merlin, happened to be on a night when he was scheduled to patrol the halls). Then Avery came forward to say that he had bribed a Ministry wizard to allow him into the Ministry Archives and he had gotten ahold of the list of all muggleborns in Britain. Merlin, this was not good. But it would not, by any stretch of the imagination, be the worst of what transpired that night.

There were a few Markings after that, the branding of innocent lives into the Dark Lord's cruel campaign. Severus had to bite his own tongue as a few of his Slytherins, (Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott) were Marked, as well as a few Ravenclaws and a lone Gryffindor. He smiled faintly at the fact that there were no, had never been, any Hufflepuffs in the Dark Lord's service. Say what you will of that house (and there were many, _many_ reasons that it was ridiculed) Hufflepuffs were almost always kind, compassionate, and loyal to their entire house, even more so than the Slytherins, and thus rarely did anyone slip through the cracks. Well, he supposed Umbridge was an exception, but that despicable woman was an exception to _humanity_ , so he wasn't exactly going to take her as a model for how to be the perfect Hufflepuff. But he should not dwell of such things in the middle of a Death Eater gathering, he reminded himself, even if he wanted to think of _anything_ but his students screaming as they were branded like cattle. Merlin save him, what kind of teacher was he if he couldn't even save his students?

The Death Eater meeting was coming to a close. It was very late, so late that the stars were already out, and at last, they were all dismissed, even the Malfoys cradling their still-shaking son, despite the fact that it was their manor to begin with. Severus was about to leave as well, silky black robes sweeping over the smooth floor as he turned to go, when the Dark Lord called him back.

"Severus. Stay behind."

* * *

Severus calmly turned to face his master, showing the proper amount of deference. At the other side of the hall, Lucius and Narcissa had paused, but the Dark Lord only hissed at them to "leave us," and a horrible shiver ran down Severus's spine at all the possible eventualities that could result, though he showed none of it, only kneeling to kiss the Dark Lord's robes and rising smoothly at his command, then backing away as far as he dared. It was never a good thing when a Death Eater was singled out, especially when he or she was called back to speak to the Dark Lord alone. Sometimes they had done something wrong, something that the Dark Lord didn't want to use to make an example of the wretched wizard but was still deserving of his cruel brand of punishment, or sometimes it was a mission that he only wanted to intrust to one of his followers. Or perhaps the worst, was that the Dark Lord wished to question his servant's loyalties with truth serum or legilimency.

"Yes my Lord?" Severus asked calmly, but letting his thoughts exude fear and respect, as the Dark Lord would have been suspicious if he could not feel it. Some wizards might have proactively told the Dark Lord that they had completed their task, but if that had not been what Severus had been called back for, such a thing could only make the situation worse.

"You have completed the task that I had given you?"

Severus nodded, reaching one hand into one of the very many pockets in his heavy black robes, the pocket that was doctored with several protection, null-magic and shatter-proofing spells and runes, specifically for the transport of whatever possibly volatile potion that the Dark Lord wanted him to brew. "My Lord, I do," he said quietly, knowing that the Dark Lord preferred a verbal answer if possible, and waited for the Dark Lord to take it from him. Instead, he only smiled, a smile that seemed, not cruel or even just pleased, but something inexplicable, something much worse.

"Drink them then."

The words "What?! My Lord?" were forced from Severus's throat without his conscious consent. Oh, he had known that some poor wizard would be forced to take it, but the possibility of having to do so himself had been too horrible to even so much as contemplate. Oh, Merlin, please no. A shudder, unbidden, wracked his frame, although that was luckily hidden by the shadows of the hall and the dark and loose robes that covered every inch of his body from his ankles to his shoulders.

The Dark Lord, however, if he had seen it, did not look angry, and that somehow made Severus even more afraid. "Severusss, Severuss, a little fear is to be expected, but let that not prevent you from enjoying this honor."

Honor indeed. Severus was wondering, not for the first time, why he had not just thrown himself off the Astronomy tower that day in fifth year. Well-advised it was not- in fact, it was quite literally the rash reaction of a depressed Gryffindor, but it would have saved him a lot of later torment, like losing Lily, or like becoming the Dark Lord's bitch. "M-my Lord, if I were to become your bearer, many potions that you expect of me would no longer be possible for me to make due to embryotoxicity," he murmured, unable to completely squash the waver in his voice.

The Dark Lord approached with another of those strange smiles, and then a long spidery finger reached languidly out to touch his cheek. "Severussss. There was a time that I had my doubts about your loyalties, but you have proved to me without a doubt that I can trust you alone, for such a...delicate task. Whatever potions I need that you cannot provide can be bought, but such a loyal servant cannot. But enough. Drink them and disrobe."

Severus occluded until it was almost painful and then raised the vial full of the champagne-like, opalescent pregnancy potion in its airtight, lightproof, and shatterproof vial and then drank it convulsively, surprised and resentful of the light and almost comforting flavor and magic-charged foam; no potion had any right to be this beautiful and this delicious in light of what it was used for. It took a few moments for it to take effect, but then Severus was stumbling back, nauseous and shaking as the potion rearranged his insides and seared through his body. Without waiting for the pain to subside- Merlin knew he was quite used to pain- he drank the second, tasting of grape, pomegranate and mandrake, and the third (he had never tasted anything quite so appalling in his life and nearly lost all of it in the same instant, what with his viscera churning with the pregnancy potion) and then was forced to lean back against the wall of Malfoy Manor until he could regain control of himself again. The Dark Lord waved a lazy hand, ordering him to get on with it, and he, ever so slowly, began to unbutton the buttons of his teaching robe, eyes always on the Dark Lord's face but not meeting those red eyes, partly because he knew he would not be able to hide his fear and disgust, and partly because he did not want to seem too forward; the Dark Lord liked his followers to keep their heads down and know their place.

And then at last he was standing in a pool of black silk, and the world narrowed to a single point as the Dark Lord approached. And he let the haze of shock, fear, and lust potion carry him away, longing for any kind of reprieve, some miracle that could stop this from happening.

It never came. Miracles were not for one such as him.

* * *

Severus returned to the castle in a daze, black eyes glazed with potions, pain, and despair. He did not even react when Peeves flew out in front of him, cackling, as he walked painfully through the entrance hall. He drifted, aimless as one of the castle ghosts, before belatedly realizing that he had to report. Then he decided that he could do that tomorrow, and made his way down to his dungeons like a wolf slinking back to his thicket, alone in a cruel and desolite dark world, longing for the shadows that could hide his shame and the potions that could heal him, at least physically.

"Honor," he murmured brokenly to the portrait concealing the door to his chambers, the irony weighing him down like a pack of stones, seeming to echo the Dark Lord's hissing voice. An honor, oh yes, and honor to be drugged and bleeding and more tainted than he ever thought possible, an honor to be carrying Lord Voldemort's spawn. He would have to change that as soon as he got inside.

Severus entered his private chambers and made sure that the door was closed and the rooms warded within an inch of their brick and mortar lives before sinking into a dark armchair- no use humiliating himself further by sinking down to lie on the floor- and just sat there blankly for almost an hour before he could get his thoughts into enough of a semblance of order to reapply his occlumency shields. Then he realized that he was probably still bleeding, and cast a few medical charms- he couldn't go to Poppy yet, not when she was not a member of the Order- and swallowed a stomach soother. He wanted to simply curl up in a maudlin firewhiskey haze, but he had research to do first, since he had no intention of continuing to harbor the demon's spawn within himself, and so he made the decision to comb the medical literature in his private library for references to male biological procreation

His substantial library of medical texts was actually surprisingly unhelpful, although, he reasoned, he probably should not have been surprised, due to the rarity of the...condition that would be tormenting him. It was apparently actually very difficult for an actual male pregnancy potion to work (rather than potions that mixed the two fathers' genetic material, so that the resulting fetus could be implanted in a surrogate, and the method of using modified polyjuice to transform into a female version of oneself to bear, as customary when two wizards wanted to try for a biological baby or the last of a line could not find a wife due to betrothal clauses or utter disinterest in the opposite sex). It was still more difficult without the wish-magic that usually helped the process along; it was rare that rape could produce a viable child, due to the angry magics of the prospective bearer and the fact that the other father might not even be around for his magic to augment the bearer's as the pregnancy progressed.

All of what Severus read indicated that if the pregnancy had taken (and he had no reason to suspect that it had _not_ , after three fertility potions) he was in serious trouble, not that he couldn't have figured that one out on his own, thank you very much. The...parasite would be subsisting on _his_ nutrients, and, worse still, _his_ core, and, unlike witches, he had no natural...equipment, meaning that the artificial womb would have to be sustained by his core as well, and that a birth was only possible with a cesarean section or a highly dangerous and specialized medical transfiguration (or perhaps an experimental potion that would likely kill both him _and_ the parasite). What was more, because he did not have any of the hormones that witches would likely have taken for granted, he had to watch what he ate and drank with the strictest care, and not only would his magic grow erratic in the final months of the pregnancy (which, as if to make things worse still, was actually ten months due to the fact that his body was not made for pregnancy) he would actually be barely able to access it at all, considering that all of the power of his core would be going to sustain the parasite.

And there was no way that he could find to terminate a magical male pregnancy. Ordinarily, Severus would not even consider such a thing in the first place; there were such a thing as contraception charms, and anyway, it would not be necessary if the relations were between two men of moderate magical strength, so any resulting pregnancies were generally purposeful, not to mention that even one such as himself who generally couldn't stand the snot-nosed brats didn't enjoy the prospect of infanticide, even if just because every drop of magical blood was precious. But this was intolerable. Even if the child had not been the child of rape, it was still the Dark Lord's spawn, and it would likely take after its sire, and Severus also didn't fancy carrying the freeloader for ten months and risk a very dangerous birth, giving up brewing, the only thing that made him truly happy, in the process. But there seemed to be no way to terminate it short of surgical intervention, since (having no way to give birth naturally) ordinary abortifacients would not work, and even if he _was_ going to let some mediwitch do an experimental operation on him, it was likely that, due to the link with his core, such a thing would kill him anyway. There was only one documented case of a potion for terminating male pregnancy at all, (something which simply reversed the effects of the pregnancy potion, namely, dissolving the artificial womb and its inhabitant). The wizard who had tested it had ended up a squib with a rotting hole in the middle of his other internal organs and had died shortly before a mediwitch could be reached. After that, no one had dared try it again, especially since true, full male pregnancy was almost always on purpose (except for the unfortunate recipients of a very old lost curse called Cruinniuc's curse), and were almost always desired, due to the expensive magical surgery, the very difficult and time-consuming ritual, or the cocktail of potions Severus had ingested that were usually necessary to bring about the condition (or to the incredibly rare natural circumstances, which required extremely powerful cores, true love, or at least an intense and overpowering desire to have a child together, and very careful arithmantic calculations used to decide the time of conception).

It was then that he reached the section in one of the medical textbooks about male maternity spells and potions. There were a lot of conditions that could not be explained or remedied (if you had morning sickness, you were out of luck, there was no viable spell for forcing a male body to produce milk- thank Merlin- and only the most basic of scans worked, nor were there many accurate ones specifically for wizarding male pregnancies. As in, there was a way to tell if there was a baby in you and if it was alive and mostly whole, but that was the extent of it; gender, magic or lack of it, most birth defects and name of sire would have to wait). He read through the section twice, noting that it was mostly filled with case histories (very few) experimental things that had worked in some rare cases, muggle ways for dealing with breech births and other things that would typically be fixed with magic in a witch, and advice to give the prospective parents, which was often as useless or as commonsensical as "eat healthy food, drink, no caffeine or alcohol or any sorts of recreational potion use, minimize medicine, and get enough sleep". There was one spell he needed though, and that was the scan for male pregnancy in the first place.

He read over the spell a few times, feeling faint, almost not wanting to cast it. He wished that he could just not know until the baby started moving at the five month mark, but he also knew that he would have to know now, especially if he was going to have to report to Dumbledore the next day. The old man would no doubt want concrete facts, not a possibility. And then he cautiously raised his ebony wand and pointed it shakily at himself. What would it do if there was a pregnancy? If there wasn't? The book had merely said that the results would be "obvious", whatever the hell that meant in this particular instance.

" _O-ostenta nondum natus_."

The wand shook in his hand, and spat out a rain of cheerful orange sparks that shot into his midsection and made it glow momentarily from within. Then he felt a rush of magic, and a momentary jolt in the pit of his stomach like taking a long-distance portkey after a glass or two of wine. And a momentary picture of a baby shimmered in the air in front of him. Damn. He supposed that this was likely what the book had called "obvious"; there was really no other way that you could take it.

He was ruined. Utterly ruined. Not that there had been much to have been ruined before, but this was a violation of his body and a threat to his career and very life, not to mention that the public would no doubt crucify him once it was discovered that he was carrying, or had carried, the Dark Lord's spawn. And they would all know who the child's other father was if it inherited parseltongue. He could just imagine Rita Skeeter's gleeful headlines, and that alone was enough to almost make him want to end it; he only refrained due to the fact that the Light would have lost its only spy if he died prematurely, and Potter would have lost a faithful, if reluctant, protector. Severus was a Slytherin, but that meant not that he was a coward but that he was a survivor, no matter what happened to him. Even if it threatened to break him, had broken him. Hadn't he glued together the shattered bits of his life and others' before?

He would live. He had to live, simply because there was no other option, although Merlin help him, he wanted to kill the _thing_ that he knew was growing inside of him, drawing on his formidable magical reserves and swelling his stomach with unnatural magic.

But there was nothing that he could do on that front so late at night, so the Slytherin head of house set aside the books that he had been reading until his skull had ached as much as his viscera, laid his wand on the coffee table, and summoned a bottle of firewhiskey from one of the cabinets in the little kitchen he had insisted on in his quarters, proceeding to down half the bottle.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus awoke slowly from dreams the ordeal that he had gone through the previous night. At first he thought that that was _all_ it was, a cruel and terrible dream, but he had an pounding headache and a churning stomach and a dull aching knot in his viscera, which he knew was not _all_ a product of the alcohol that he had ingested. He didn't want to believe it, not in the slightest, but, upon seeing the open medical texts he'd been too tired and too intoxicated to put up, he had the horrible feeling that what he had remembered from the night before had been more than a nightmare He snatched his wand, head spinning nauseatingly at the quick movement, and cast the spell again. Once again, he had the same result. Pregnancy. Oh, Merlin.

Severus could not bring himself to choke anything more down except a nutrient potion and a hangover-relief concoction that morning. The only thing he was glad about was that the Dark Lord had not given him any potions to brew- thank Merlin for small mercies, especially since they were so rare in his life. Even if the only reason that he had been afforded the luxury of a break was because the Dark Lord wanted his little clone to be healthy. It wasn't as if he was in any kind of condition to brew. He wouldn't have to do anything today then, since it was summer and he didn't even have to write any lesson plans, since he always used the same ones...wait. He still had to brew for the hospital wing, as always, and most of the more complicated potions required ingredients he could no longer touch. Damn. He had to talk to Albus. And, as if to make it still more intolerable he actually had to tell Albus why he couldn't brew, since his teaching contract would not expire for another year and he would have to have a very good reason if he wanted to hand in his resignation (which he did not, since Hogwarts was the closest thing that he would likely ever have to a home). He had to give his report, anyway, but he rarely if ever shared what he went through at the Death Eater meetings, only the news that he had acquired. Albus knew that he was exposed to the occasional cruciatus, but certainly not how bad it usually was...and this was certainly _not_ usual.

Severus stilled in the middle of the hall (as he had been headed to the restricted section in a last abortive attempt to try to find a way to kill the _thing_ inside himself) and headed instead for the Great Hall. From there he slowly made his way down the side corridor to the base of the Headmaster's Tower, and began to climb the spiral staircase, feeling more and more sick as the inevitable interrogation that was his "report" approached. At last he reached the gargoyle.

"Zero Bars," he said numbly, not even having enough energy to complain (as he usually did) about the fact that Albus had once again used some sort of moronic muggle candy as his password. The door swung open at once, without even giving him time to brace himself, and then he stepped into the Headmaster's office.

"Severus, are you alright?" Albus, as usual, was sitting at his desk with his hands folded, reading something over his See-All spectacles. Multiple little shiny devices, linked to wards, people, and artifacts, as Severus had learned over the years, clicked and whirred behind him, distracting Severus's gaze and attention for the briefest of instants before he forced himself to focus. It was a pity there had never been one of those shiny devices monitoring his own welfare... "I was quite worried that you didn't come back at the usual time, and-"

"P-please, Albus, may we get on with this?" Severus's velvet voice actually stuttered.

Albus's eyebrows went up at once, but at least he did not pursue the matter. For the moment. "Very well then, what news do you have?"

Severus decided to start with the easy answers. "Amelia Bones and Igor Karkaroff have been assassinated by Dark forces, as I suspect that you already know. The Dark Lord plans to takeover first the DMLE, by force if necessary, and then the Ministry of Magic itself; Yaxley has been given the task to subdue, imperius, bribe or turn whoever becomes acting head of the DMLE. The Dark Lord is planning to recruit Alphonse Kettleburn, and possibly the foreign P-Potion Mistress Fatima Shalgri, as well as a few others, and Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Terry Boot, Antony Goldstein, Amanda Spice, and Grant Pellegrini were Marked. I do not believe any of them but Vincent, Gregory, and Pansy were truly willing."

The twinkle had long vanished from Albus's clear blue gaze. "Indeed. Perhaps we can give protection to any of them who need it, then."

"They may not take it," Severus responded, though he was grateful that Albus was offering protection to his little snakes. A pity he hadn't done it before, but then, Albus never noticed the Slytherins' troubles until they had gotten fairly severe.

"They may not have a choice," Albus said, and Severus ducked his head. _He_ certainly remembered what that was like.

"I suppose," he said, picking a lemon drop form the bowl on Albus's desk and rolling it absently in his hand, over and over and over.

"What else, if there is anything?" Albus asked. "You looked as though you were about to go on."

Oh, Merlin. "Yes, there is more. As if to make matters still more difficult for us, Mundungus has leaked information pertaining to three of our safe houses, so the passwords will have to be changed and the wards adjusted, and the Dark Lord now knows where Potter is living, although the bloodwards prevent him or his followers from approaching the house, so he will need some sort of escort if he wants to get to Hogwarts safely. There is also a Revel on October 23 in Diagon and Technik Alleys, and Avery bribed a Ministry official- I don't know which one- to get him a copy of the list of all British muggleborns," Severus went on concisely, using his formidable occlumentic skills to keep calm and try to remember all the details before...what had happened next. The lemon drop was almost entirely divested of its wrapper, but Severus had not even noticed, his mind occupied with other things. Such as how he was going to admit his condition without debasing himself entirely.

Albus had paled at that last. "Dear Merlin, that is the last thing we need. I shall have to arrange some sort of safety measures for their families."

Severus nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He needed to tell Albus about his pregnancy, but Merlin save him, he didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to _think_ about it.

"The Order should be able to add warding to the muggleborn houses, assuming the Ministry is not so compromised that they attempt to interfere," Albus went on thoughtfully. Then he turned that too-perceptive back on to Severus. "I am afraid that there will be one change that I am implementing this year that will affect you," he said, with the usual expression he showed when he was about to say something that Severus wouldn't like.

"What is it?" Severus asked, barely able to muster up the will to react in a manner that Albus would be expecting. What change would it be? A new club, or something equally moronic? Perhaps something that had more to do with his duties for the war than his employment at the school? Merlin knew that Albus sprung something like this on him every year.

"This year you will no longer be the Potions professor."

"I beg your pardon?" What in Merlin's name? Did Albus know, then, and was this all part of his grand plans? Or had he outlived his usefulness and was going to be sent away? Severus began to shake involuntarily beneath his dark robes, and his vision greyed around the edges. He barely even noticed when Albus gripped him by the shoulder, or when he felt the cool rim of a potion vial touching his lips. Gradually, however, the calming draught seemed to take effect, and at last Severus became aware of elderly hands shaking his shoulders and Albus's voice repeating "It's all right, my boy, I'm not turning you out, you're ok."

"That's...debatable..." Severus wheezed, still trying to control his racing heart. "W-what do you have in mind, Albus?"

"I was going to give you the Defense Against the Dark Arts post," Albus responded, "just for this year. Hopefully a one-year contract will defeat the curse satisfactorily, and then you can go back to Potions."

Perfect. He couldn't have asked for a better cover.

"What is perfect, my boy?" Albus asked, eyes narrowing a little.

Severus paled, suddenly realizing that he had spoken aloud. "I...Albus..." he managed helplessly, struggling to breathe again in the throws of another panic attack. "The Dark Lord..." he couldn't say it.

"The Dark Lord what?" Albus asked, concerned, but also, as usual, inquisitive; anything about the Dark Lord was obviously fair game in his eyes, since the outcome of the war would depend on it. In this he was correct, but it was still painful that news of the war was more important than Severus's trauma.

"He..." Severus swallowed hard, then reached for the calming draught that Albus had left on the desk and drank down the entire thing in a single long gulp.

"Severus, what happened?" Albus asked, now looking quite worried, or as worried as he could be about his pet spy. After all, the usual dose of calming draught was a capful, and while the whole bottle wouldn't kill you, Severus, as a Potion Master, should have known that drinking an entire phial full would result in several nasty side effects, if not worse.

Severus sighed as the drug took effect, rendering him so relaxed as to be almost boneless and suppressing terror, worry, and agitation in his mind. At least he wasn't so terrified; not physically, at any rate. But how in Merlin's name was he going to phrase this? He ran through several increasingly ludicrous scenarios in his mind before finally just stating: "I...Albus, I'm pregnant."

"What?!" It appeared that that could throw even Albus for a loop. Severus was, after all, emphatically male, and not one for romantic entanglements in general, at least after Regulus had been done to death.

"The Dark Lord, it seemed, wanted an heir, although Merlin only knows why he chose me. I can only assume that he wanted someone with a core strong enough to carry his...offspring." Severus couldn't bring himself to call it a child.

"Oh, my. I suppose _that_ complicates matters."

"Oh my? That _complicates_ matters? Is that all you can come up with?" Severus hissed. Apparently even a whole bottle of calming drought wasn't strong enough to corral his raging emotions. "What are we going to do about this! I won't be able to brew half the potions needed for the hospital wing, I won't be able to teach past my second quarter, and how in Merlin's name am I going to hide it?! And what am I going to do after the creature is born, assuming I survive the birth?"

"Severus, I am _not_ marginalizing what must have happened to you, but you are correct that this will cause more problems. If you were any other teacher, I could just give you a sabbatical to carry the child to term, but I am afraid for your life if you were to leave the Hogwarts grounds. While I believe that there are glamours that would satisfactorily hide the changes, mood changes and other things will not be able to be hidden so easily. I do believe that you can do this, however, and Slughorn, for all his personal flaws, will be able to take over your classes and brew the potions in the hospital wing. You will simply have to be extra careful conducting practicals in DADA, and I will find a trusted assistant and come up with a believable story for why you would need one."

Severus closed his eyes briefly, trying to get ahold of himself again. "The press is bound to get wind of this before long; Rita Skeeter can smell a good story miles off. What then, when the _Prophet_ screams that I am so loyal as to bear my master's child? The public will crucify me if the parents and students don't get there first."

"Severus, I will protect you, don't worry about that. All you have to do is worry about keeping that child alive."

"That and reporting to the D-Dark Lord." Severus's voice had begun to shake as the shock of everything sunk in, aided by the calming potion, which had only calmed the immediate terror. "I...I don't know how I am going to continue. To have to look at him every day...to have to feel his spawn moving inside me..."

"I have faith in you, Severus," Albus said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Severus jerked away as though he had burned, remembering spidery fingers gripping that same place on his clavicle, bruising his pale skin, and red eyes glittering with passion and the low hisses of parseltongue that burst from the creature's lips as all coherent thought was extinguished from his master's mind. Faith was such a hollow word at this moment, such a meaningless platitude. What good was faith now, in himself or anyone else?

"Thank you, Albus," he managed dully. "Is there anything else, Albus?"

The old man fixed serious, sorrowful blue eyes on his own black ones. "I want you to take care of yourself, for the child's sake if not for your own."

A dim ember of anger smoldered a little. "The child's sake? Why in Merlin's sake should I do anything for it?"

The man's lips quirked downward as if involuntarily, a little disapprovingly. "I understand how difficult its conception was for you, but it isn't the child's fault. It is still innocent, and it would be a sin to harm it."

Severus swallowed hard. The implication that it was innocent when _he_ was not and that it should not be killed was perhaps true, but the way that the old man said it made him sick, as if he was brushing off the rape as nothing more than Severus's duty, and he could suddenly not stand to be in the same room as the older man, could not stand to see those infernal blue eyes and that bowl of damned lemon drops, could not stand the pitying but not at all understanding looks, could not stand the cold rationality when he would have needed a father's kindness.

"I-is there anything that you haven't mentioned?"

"Not officially," Albus gave an apologetic and probably false smile. "But I am so sorry for what you have been through. I never imagined-"

"Never imagined what? That the Dark Lord does more than cast the occasional cruciatus? That we all have scars from his so-called 'entertainment', and that he uses his precious Inner Circle as bed-warmers or worse? Never imagined that a monster will always be monstrous?" Severus staggered to his feet. "For all your wide experience, Headmaster, you have been remarkably sheltered." Without another word, Severus turned to leave the Headmaster's office before he could say something truly unforgivable, leaving a shaken old man wondering where he had gone wrong, and all the portraits of former headmasters staring at both the old man and at the retreating Potions Master. And Severus made his way back to his chambers, locked and warded the doors, and sank down on the sofa, sinking into a gradual sleep now that the bottle of calming draught had overcome most of his stress, or at least subsumed it. And for the first time in fifteen years, as the overdose of calming drought tore down his defences, the Potions Master began to sob, unable to suffer in silence. He would be mostly recovered by the day after- he had to be- but he couldn't resist indulging in tears, just for the day. He had expected betrayal from the Dark Lord, but from Albus, it took him by surprise.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus had never thought he would look forward to the beginning of term. Merlin only knew that he hated children and they hated him, but long weeks spent in his rooms, unable to brew, or in the owlery staring at the beautiful creatures flying in and out and wishing he could do the same had wrought havoc with his already erratic emotions, as had the solitude he had found himself in, considering that he had been had been totally avoiding Albus, for what it was worth, and there was no one else at Hogwarts but Filch, unless one wanted to count Trelawny's sporadic appearances. The first month of pregnancy had been truly horrible, and he wondered, not for the first time, how witches dealt with this on a regular basis. He woke up nauseated in the mornings, unsurprisingly, and his sharp temper had only gained in asperity with the hormonal changes sweeping his body, while his bizarre cravings did not make his relations with the few staff members remaining at the castle. He had almost bitten Trelawny's head off the first time she's predicted "great and terrible changes will be entering your life".

Then there were the Death Eater meetings. Ever since...that night, the Dark Lord seemed not to know how to act towards him, and Severus, though he had never enjoyed the Death Eater meetings, grew to dread them more than even Lupin on a full moon. Not only were the usual atrocities spoken of and, of course, perpetuated, but the Dark Lord's attitude towards him seemed constantly in flux; sometimes he treated Severus like spun glass, solicitous for his health and inordinately angry when the others of his followers made their usual cruel comments about him, but then again he would call him back after a meeting and force Severus to repeat as many of the degrading activities they had engaged in before as were safe with Severus pregnant. It was still a week before the students would be coming, but Severus was already aching with a species of all-pervasive tiredness that seemed to have sunk bone-deep within him, which was only augmented by the nightmares that swept through his mind nightly, made still more terrible by his inability to take any sort of sleeping aid without threatening the parasite and, by extension, himself. Soon he would begin to show, too, and some provision had to be made for that; surely he had not been the first to have to hide an unwanted child? He knew, of course, that that was very nearly impossible, but he still spent day after day of digging through the darkest tomes in his collection, and in Knock Turn Alley's various book stores, and in several Wizarding libraries in London-even the Healer's university library. But he could find nothing. Nor did the Prince heritance, such as it was, (he had not been the main heir, of course, not to mention that he had been too angry at his relations to want to look at the old books and papers that he had bequeathed, resulting in some of the wards breaking down, leading to the invasion of moths and mold) yield any kind of results.

Nothing. He read textbooks and manuals concerning glamories, obscuring charms, and even fay magic, but not one of the hundreds of books he searched through yield up a specialized spell to conceal a pregnancy beyond a very old ritual that seemed more wiccan than wizard, involving being "skyclad in the wilderness" under "a skye splashed with moonshyne" and "invoking the Mother to hyde the burgeoning", which, on top of not having any of the trappings of a typical ritual (runes, candles, a specific kind of ward, any sort of ritual preparation) also gave no details. After it was clear that none of the books on concealment magic were going to yield results, he started on some of the darker tomes, but they were no more helpful and certainly far more nausea-inducing. Sexual magic, unspeakably appalling potions, rituals so dark that the Dark Lord might even retch...but not a single simple specialized, pregnancy-safe glamour.

Now, only a week before he would have to teach, he knew that there could be no more wasted time. Being male, he would show considerably more; even with the prenatal potions he had ingested, there was only so much his organs could be shifted to fit a child; thus, his body would swell outward to make up the difference. He was already showing a little at the moment, although the swelling was, at the moment, easily concealed by the voluptuous and heavy black teaching robes that he always wore, but he knew that it would grow very difficult to hide very soon. He had to talk to Albus.

He probably could have found a concealment glamour much quicker if he had asked the old man for the loan of his collection at the very first, but that would have required him to talk to the man, which he had no inclination to do. Not that he had much choice. Severus took a deep breath and rose from the table he had claimed in the Hogwarts library to read (he had not wanted to have to check the sorts of books he was reading out and have them be in the library's permanent records), sent the books back to their places with a discreet wave of his hand, nodded to Madame Pince, and left the library, climbing the five flights of stairs to Albus's office. He took a deep breath.

"Blood Pops."

The gargoyle stared smugly back at him with sightless stone eyes, and did not move. Damn it! Why had Albus changed it?! He did not have time for this! Severus fixed it with the withering glare that would have made any one of his students (even some of the Seventh Years, although granted they were often Hufflepuffs) wet themselves. It just stared back at him.

"Every Flavor Beans. Fizzing Whizzbees. Drooble's Best. Toothflossing Stringmints. Pepper Imps."

The gargoyle remained mockingly unmoved. Severus frowned, half in concentration and half in anger. For Merlin's sake, he was _staff;_ he should have at least been informed that there had been a password change! "Ice Mice. Cream Toads. Sugar Quills. Licorice Wands. Exploding Bonbons. Cauldron Cakes. Fudge Flies. Jelly Slugs. Sugared Butterfly Wings. Chocolate Frogs. Shock-o-Choc."

Still nothing. Severus took a deep breath, trying to prevent his hormonal magic from blasting the idiotic lump of rock to the Founder's Era. A few sparks flew from the tips of his fingers, glimmering purple and gold with wild magic. "Open up, you imbecilic lump!"

The gargoyle had the gall to remain still. Severus drew himself up, magic swirling around him as he prepared to render it to powder. In that moment, he heard Albus, from behind him.

"Severus, my boy, what is the matter?"

Severus made a concerted effort to prevent himself from hexing the old man's eye-scorchingly bright robes a nice black with little skulls, or something equally gloomy, just to see the look on the bastard's face. "You neglected to inform me of the password change, and I needed to talk to you," he managed, employing all of his formidable skills in occlumency to keep himself from telling Albus exactly what he thought of him, likely punctuated with a few choice expletives.

Albus stepped past him into his office with his usual infuriating calmness, the gargoyle sliding aside without him having even to say a word, and Severus gritted his teeth and followed as the old man made some remark about how he was here now and why didn't Severus just tell him what he had come to tell him, completely ignoring the question of the password. Was the old man going senile?!

"Lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Albus." Merlin give him strength. If Albus followed that up with-

"Perhaps a cup of tea?"

Severus resisted the nearly overpowering urge to tell the man exactly where he could put his tea and lemon drops. "No, Albus, I have no interest in tea and biscuits and pats on the head. While we are at it, the weather is abominable and I have a headache. Now may we get on with this, Headmaster?"

"Get on with what?" Dumbledore asked calmly. "You were the one who wanted to see me, and I am not a mind reader..."

Severus scoffed internally. Not a mind reader indeed; the bastard was a natural legilimens, and while he could not, strictly speaking, read minds, he could have plucked the topic of whatever Severus had wanted to talk about out of his mind if he had been anyone else but Severus Snape or perhaps the Dark Lord. Or Merlin. He certainly did surface scans on his students all the time. "I need your help," he said bluntly. "Specifically, I need access to your personal library."

Snowy eyebrows shot up. Albus, after all, knew better than anyone how extensive Severus's own personal library was. "What are you trying to find? Perhaps I can help."

Severus hoped that he could, if only so that he could leave the old man's presence as soon as possible. "I need a glamour. Something that can hide the...foetus...until it is ready to be born. I will also likely need something to alert you when I go into labor, although that does not have to be right now."

"And you haven't found anything in your own books?" Albus sounded almost sceptical.

"No, Albus; believe me, I have looked."

"Then you may look through my books. That failing, I may be able to acquire a glamourie ring to conceal it, but that might take some time. I am sorry I cannot be of any more help..."

Severus debated the merits of retorting "No worries; I am used to it," but decided against it. At least the old man was helping... "Thank you very much, Albus."

The old man had the gall to smile at him. "Here. Back here." Severus followed, and they passed through a second door, one which Severus for the life of him had never seen before.

It was not overly large, but it was stuffed with books, and the scents of must and old paper permeated the whole place, while motes of dust floated absently in the buttery light of the torches that had lit in their sconces from the moment that the hidden door had been opened. It also appeared to bear only a passing acquaintance with any given system of organization. Albus sighed as they both stared at the room.

"Most of this is contraband, you know."

Severus had _not_ known, nor did he care in the slightest.

"Sometimes the children from the darker families start getting interested in this kind of thing, but it's not good policy to let them read it on school grounds; that's how you get children like Tom Riddle. You can't do anything about them studying on holiday, but if they bring anything like this to school, it has to go. All the same, you can't destroy it, because if all the information on a subject is destroyed, it will only be reinvented, but any counters or potions for treatment will have been lost, so I just kept it here. Hasn't gotten much use though," he added, almost sadly. Severus did not care one whit about his rambling.

"Is there some sort of system in place for finding what you're looking for?"

"I just use librarians' magik," replied Albus calmly. "Search a title, author or theme, and so on. I haven't actually organized or inventoried all of this."

Oh. Lovely. This was going to take far longer than Severus had expected, wasn't it? "Pregnancy," he managed, flicking his wand. He was promptly almost buried alive in a landslide of books.

"Should I stay to help?"

Severus stiffened. Part of him wanted to snap at Albus "What do you think, idiot? I have to get through all these in a week maximum, and that's not allowing time for meals or sleep or the occasion of being Called!" The other parts did not want the old man to be there at all, could not bear to be in the same room with him for anything other than an emergency or Order business. He settled for asking the headmaster to leave, even if he would much rather have been held, even by Albus, if only because no one had touched him for any reason but violence or the most basic of medical assistance since Lily died, or perhaps before. Even if, for all his anger at the old man, he would have clung to him in a heartbeat had he actually bothered to show him any of the kindness that he so liberally dispensed to others. He said nothing, however, and Albus appeared to not even notice his internal struggle.

"I'll leave you to it then, my boy."

Severus shot a parting glance at the headmaster's retreating back and settled down to look through the old man's private library.

He found nothing that evening, or the next. Albus showed up periodically to check on him, and there was the eccentric house elf that seemed to have adopted him (house elves, after all, could sense pregnancy in both witches and wizards, as caring for expecting parents were part of their job) and which kept popping in to press snacks and cocoa on him and make sure that he was not straining himself.

He had nearly given up by the fourth day. There were only three days left until the students arrived, and the staff were already taking their wonted places in the castle, while none of the tomes turned up any glamours that would be pregnancy-safe for _witches_ , much less a wizard who was not in the best of health. Damn. He could pretend to have some sort of illness or just that he was putting on weight for a bit, since he always wore voluminous teaching robes specifically designed to hide anything that might be wrong with his body (like whip marks still bleeding through the cloth, for instance) but Madame Pomfrey would want to look at it, and even if he made her keep it confidential, she was not in the Order, and Albus had still forbidden him from asking her assistance. Not to mention that the other staff members would be worried, or, in the case of some (cough, cough, Bathsheba) just plain nosy.

"Does Master Sevvie be needing anything?"

Severus jumped. He had honestly forgotten that Winky, the house elf, tended to "check on him" at about this time of day. "No. No thank you, Winky," he said in an uncharacteristic show of politeness. "The only thing that could help is if I could find that damn glamour."

Winky tugged on one of her long green ears. "What do yous need help looking for?"

"I...I need to have a way to hide the baby by the time that the students come." Merlin save him, he was pouring his heart out to a house elf!

"Hide it? Why would yous be wanting to do that?"

"Because it...would not be safe if I was openly pregnant, especially considering who the...father...is." The idea of the Dark Lord as a father at all, much less to his brat, was not a comforting one, and he'd never really thought about it before. Not that he wanted to.

"Elveses can be doing that, Master Sevvie," Winky said, with that little happy twitch of her lips she always got when she felt like she had done something right, although she did not exhibit it often.

Severus stiffened. "Elves can do what?"

"I's can hide the baby so it looks like you don't have one," she said hopefully. "As long as no ones touch yous, no ones will knows."

Could this be the answer? "I...can you do that now, then?"

Winky nodded, an excited little bob of the head, and snapped her fingers. All at once he felt a curious warm tingling in his midsection, and then a soft, spreading warmth. "There. The baby be's safe and hidden."

Severus blinked a few times, startled to find that he was actually holding back tears. "Th-thank you," he said, not trusting himself to say more. Damn his hormones!

"Is Master Sevvie ok?"

"I'm fine, Winky."

"Yous not ok. Yous needs to sit down."

"I..." Severus sucked in a quick breath, feeling suddenly faint, and took a seat in the nearest chair, which turned out to be Albus's throne-like seat.

Winky snapped her fingers again, and all the tomes that he had been dragging off the shelves in a fruitless search for a solution flew back into place. Another snap and a plate of food- roast beef, salad, and potatoes- appeared in front of him. One of his eyebrows shot up, though he said nothing. Now that he thought about it, he _was_ rather hungry...

"Master Sevvie needs to be's eating more," Winky added, arms akimbo, when he didn't touch it. Severus stared at the suddenly bossy house elf for a moment, then decided that it was not worth the effort to tell her he wasn't, especially since it was not true, and dug into the meal without another word. "Master Sevvie should takes more care of himself."

"I can't not," Severus replied somewhat bitterly around a mouthful of potato. "The baby has to be healthy..."

"Yous have to be healthy too," she said, still looking at him with all the bossiness a house elf could muster. "The baby is not the only thing that matters."

No one had ever told him that in his life, and he was inordinately glad that she popped away after saying that, because as soon as she was gone helpless tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes.


End file.
